Kannou helped me write this one. First example of my new style. And it's actually long! Good for me!
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I started thinking yesterday, my thoughts just snowballed. An today I woke up, and everything seemed a little clearer.
Sure, I only got about an hour of sleep, but is that really a price to pay for everything suddenly being less confusing?
Well, not everything is solved. My psyche is still pretty much in ruin, I still talk to myself in my head, and I still can't keep one train of thought.
But does that really matter, now? All that matters is one thing, I'll in love. I know who I want to be with. I know who I love.
I've be pining about this for at least a year! And now I know. I know that, and everything else can just go sit on a tack. It pales in comparison to what I know now.
Not like anything really changes, I just want to exaggerate my accomplishment to make me feel better.
I guess I could call this the end to a year long project. Yes, that works nicely.
Now who is this fabulous person that I love, you may ask? Daisuke Motomiya. Look at that name? I sigh like Jun when thinking about Yamato. Completely in love, but you can never have the person.
I sure do know how to put a damper on the situation. But I just think of him. Not of the fact that I can never have him, not on the fact that he loves someone else, not on the fact that he is my best friend and doesn't want to be anymore.
I just think of -him-. Just him. Everything about him. The cinnamon hair, the way that he looks at me and I get some stupified look on my face. The way that he always manages to talk my ear off. The fact that he constantly admires me, for my intelligence, or soccer skills, or whatever.
And the fact that he wants to see me, in 1 hour, 36 minutes, and about 12 seconds. The fact that he wants my company. There I go, sighing again.
I can act so childish when I think about him. That is the wonderful thing. Daisuke makes me forget all of the bad stuff I have done in the past.
1 hour, 35 minutes, 57 seconds. Until I see Daisuke again. Sure, he stayed over and I saw him 3 hours, 49 minutes, and 17 seconds ago, but still, I see him again.
Would this be called obsession?
. . . . .
. . . . .
Yes. Most definately. The only thing I can think about is him, though. What else do I think about? Well, what else that I actually -want- to face?
There, you don't seem to have an answer to that, do you?
So I'll just be happy thinking about Daisuke, and you can leave me alone.
Why shouldn't I think about him? Brave, friendly, tastes like chocolate. Please don't ask, it's a long story. Correction, I don't want to tell you. Safari pants that make him look fashionable and a retro jacket he isn't afraid to wear. Orange shoes. I have always admired someone that can pull off orange. Tan skin, year round. Goggles holding back the spikes of his hair. . . .
1 hour, 26 minutes, 23 seconds. The way the light hits him and he seems to reflect it to the rest of the room, the way I can always tell when he is coming. Hmm. A bring up a mental image. I've done this before, a lot. But nothing compares to seeing him in person. 1 hour, 20 minutes, 4 seconds.
I like the way he isn't afraid to say what he thinks. I like the way that he is always blunt. The way that we does things, and then thinks about him. The way that he is secretly smart, but never shows it. Just the fact that he has a face he doesn't show the world, just like me.
57 minutes, 18 seconds. I should really stop looking at my watch. Speaking of which, I need a new one. I am tired of looking at the same, boring, black and white analog Timex.
But I like numbers. 52 minutes even. So definate, you can tell a 2 is a 2. A 2 will not suddenly change into a 9 at the bat of an eye. A 2 will do anything you want it to. Add 5? Fine. 7. Divide in half? Ok, 1. Flexible, yet definate. I wish I was a number. But if I was, I would be some impossible fraction.
41 minutes, 3 seconds. It's been a while since I last looked. Like a little cild, asking their parents, "Are we there yet?" And everytime, I am met with a firm, "No."
Disappointing. Why did the fates decide I would fall for this goggle-headed-cinnamon-boy? Don't even try to ask me. But for some reason, they keep throwing hints my way.
At first they were large and blunt. Daisuke stopping his assult of Hikari, favoring me over the other children. Then I came to see the other signs. His always sitting next to me, being overly friendly to me, and even becoming an affectionate friends. He actually hugs me sometimes when we meet. He thinks it's funny when I pull out of them.
30 minutes, 59 seconds. A book? Should I read a book? Hmm. My library certainly is extensive, but I have read almost every one. 'A Tale of Two Cities'. Nope. Read it in 5th grade. 'War and Peace'. Read it. 'David Copperfield'. Rather not, I hate Dickens. 'The Holy Bible'? Really, I would rather not. 'The Rules and Gameplay of Soccer'.
That might actually be interesting. Not like I need it, but brushing up on the rules will kill time. I mean, that's why I am going to see Daisuke in the first place, to try and help him with his soccer.
"Chapter 1, Object of the Game," I say to myself. I mutter softly as I read the pages. "Get the ball to the net the most times! Do they really need 17 pages on that?" I think out loud.
Mistake on my part. My mother comes to my door.
"Ken honey, are you okay in there?"
"Fine, mom."
"When are you leaving?"
I was about to say what I had been thinking, 21 minutes and 19 seconds, but I decided against it. "About a half-hour."
"Ok honey." She left. At least she isn't proding me today. Where was I? Oh yes, 'The Defense'. Real hard, you block the ball from going into the net. Like you need to explain that.
So I skip ahead a bit. 18 minutes and 29 seconds. 'The Offense'. Now thing might prove interesting. They might actually have some information here on tactics. So I scan the pages. Nope, I was wrong. It just says 'get the ball into the net' in way to many words. I could condense this into a simple packet. . . .
No, to simplistic. What would my public think? A pamplet saying 'get ball into goal, while blocking ball into own net'. Real hard. And knowing me, I would have to change the grammar a bit, but that's what it would say. 15 minutes even.
I should get there early, and I still am in my school uniform. Wouldn't it be a good idea to wear my soccer uniform to a soccer practice?
Yeah, that would be good. I pull my shirt over my head and unbutton my pants and throw them over a chair. I slip on the psuedo-plastic shiny black pants and put my green jersey on. I really should wear this more often, I look a lot better than in that school uniform.
I honestly don't know why I wear that silly gray thing all the time. Sure, it's comfortable and all, but so are sweatpants.
I shudder at the thought. I have always thought that sweatpants make me look fat and they bulge at all the wrong places. Ew.
Note to self: Buy attractive pajamas. And maybe this afternoon even. I hope Daisuke asks me to spend the night. Like almost every other Friday since the beginning of time.
I just hope this won't be like last Friday. Now that was disatrous. Miyako, Hikari, Iori and Takeru were invited also. One game of truth or dare and my life going spinning out of control. . . .
Stupid Miyako, still holding a flame for me. Of course, we played the game, right after the Ouija board. Those things are so fake.
So anyway, it was my turn to ask. And everyone was answering truth, and everyone was asking, "Who do you like?" Works like that everytime. So I decided to ask Miyako, because she was the only one not to answer. I had answered that I liked the quiet girl in my math class, and no one know what I was talking about. So I got off scott free. I chuckle to myself. So as I was saying, I asked Miyako who she liked. And she answered. . . me. Yes, lil' over me, right here. And I was blushing, and she was blushing, even Iori was blushing. I was pretty much quiet the rest of the time.
That sent me into one of my thinking periods. Then I started to re-ask the question I had been periodically asking myself for the past year. I asked myself, point blank, who I liked. And it took me a week to get this far. And now I am going to see him. And I can't help but giggle. So out of personality for me.
3 minutes. I suppose I should get going. So I grab my soccerball in it's mesh net and heave it over my shoulder. I set out for the park.
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It was getting a bit long, so I decided to chapter this one. Hey! Don't blame me, blame my extraordinarily long period of inspiration.
5-28: I just reuploaded this because I noticed an odd little mistake, and there were these spelling errors driving me crazy. I noticed that instead of saying, 'David Copperfield', I said 'Davis Copperfield'. I would have made that some sort of slip on Ken's part, but then I realized I was using the Japanese names and there was no way that Ken would think Davis was in anyway related to Daisuke. Crackhead dubbers.
===========
I started thinking yesterday, my thoughts just snowballed. An today I woke up, and everything seemed a little clearer.
Sure, I only got about an hour of sleep, but is that really a price to pay for everything suddenly being less confusing?
Well, not everything is solved. My psyche is still pretty much in ruin, I still talk to myself in my head, and I still can't keep one train of thought.
But does that really matter, now? All that matters is one thing, I'll in love. I know who I want to be with. I know who I love.
I've be pining about this for at least a year! And now I know. I know that, and everything else can just go sit on a tack. It pales in comparison to what I know now.
Not like anything really changes, I just want to exaggerate my accomplishment to make me feel better.
I guess I could call this the end to a year long project. Yes, that works nicely.
Now who is this fabulous person that I love, you may ask? Daisuke Motomiya. Look at that name? I sigh like Jun when thinking about Yamato. Completely in love, but you can never have the person.
I sure do know how to put a damper on the situation. But I just think of him. Not of the fact that I can never have him, not on the fact that he loves someone else, not on the fact that he is my best friend and doesn't want to be anymore.
I just think of -him-. Just him. Everything about him. The cinnamon hair, the way that he looks at me and I get some stupified look on my face. The way that he always manages to talk my ear off. The fact that he constantly admires me, for my intelligence, or soccer skills, or whatever.
And the fact that he wants to see me, in 1 hour, 36 minutes, and about 12 seconds. The fact that he wants my company. There I go, sighing again.
I can act so childish when I think about him. That is the wonderful thing. Daisuke makes me forget all of the bad stuff I have done in the past.
1 hour, 35 minutes, 57 seconds. Until I see Daisuke again. Sure, he stayed over and I saw him 3 hours, 49 minutes, and 17 seconds ago, but still, I see him again.
Would this be called obsession?
. . . . .
. . . . .
Yes. Most definately. The only thing I can think about is him, though. What else do I think about? Well, what else that I actually -want- to face?
There, you don't seem to have an answer to that, do you?
So I'll just be happy thinking about Daisuke, and you can leave me alone.
Why shouldn't I think about him? Brave, friendly, tastes like chocolate. Please don't ask, it's a long story. Correction, I don't want to tell you. Safari pants that make him look fashionable and a retro jacket he isn't afraid to wear. Orange shoes. I have always admired someone that can pull off orange. Tan skin, year round. Goggles holding back the spikes of his hair. . . .
1 hour, 26 minutes, 23 seconds. The way the light hits him and he seems to reflect it to the rest of the room, the way I can always tell when he is coming. Hmm. A bring up a mental image. I've done this before, a lot. But nothing compares to seeing him in person. 1 hour, 20 minutes, 4 seconds.
I like the way he isn't afraid to say what he thinks. I like the way that he is always blunt. The way that we does things, and then thinks about him. The way that he is secretly smart, but never shows it. Just the fact that he has a face he doesn't show the world, just like me.
57 minutes, 18 seconds. I should really stop looking at my watch. Speaking of which, I need a new one. I am tired of looking at the same, boring, black and white analog Timex.
But I like numbers. 52 minutes even. So definate, you can tell a 2 is a 2. A 2 will not suddenly change into a 9 at the bat of an eye. A 2 will do anything you want it to. Add 5? Fine. 7. Divide in half? Ok, 1. Flexible, yet definate. I wish I was a number. But if I was, I would be some impossible fraction.
41 minutes, 3 seconds. It's been a while since I last looked. Like a little cild, asking their parents, "Are we there yet?" And everytime, I am met with a firm, "No."
Disappointing. Why did the fates decide I would fall for this goggle-headed-cinnamon-boy? Don't even try to ask me. But for some reason, they keep throwing hints my way.
At first they were large and blunt. Daisuke stopping his assult of Hikari, favoring me over the other children. Then I came to see the other signs. His always sitting next to me, being overly friendly to me, and even becoming an affectionate friends. He actually hugs me sometimes when we meet. He thinks it's funny when I pull out of them.
30 minutes, 59 seconds. A book? Should I read a book? Hmm. My library certainly is extensive, but I have read almost every one. 'A Tale of Two Cities'. Nope. Read it in 5th grade. 'War and Peace'. Read it. 'David Copperfield'. Rather not, I hate Dickens. 'The Holy Bible'? Really, I would rather not. 'The Rules and Gameplay of Soccer'.
That might actually be interesting. Not like I need it, but brushing up on the rules will kill time. I mean, that's why I am going to see Daisuke in the first place, to try and help him with his soccer.
"Chapter 1, Object of the Game," I say to myself. I mutter softly as I read the pages. "Get the ball to the net the most times! Do they really need 17 pages on that?" I think out loud.
Mistake on my part. My mother comes to my door.
"Ken honey, are you okay in there?"
"Fine, mom."
"When are you leaving?"
I was about to say what I had been thinking, 21 minutes and 19 seconds, but I decided against it. "About a half-hour."
"Ok honey." She left. At least she isn't proding me today. Where was I? Oh yes, 'The Defense'. Real hard, you block the ball from going into the net. Like you need to explain that.
So I skip ahead a bit. 18 minutes and 29 seconds. 'The Offense'. Now thing might prove interesting. They might actually have some information here on tactics. So I scan the pages. Nope, I was wrong. It just says 'get the ball into the net' in way to many words. I could condense this into a simple packet. . . .
No, to simplistic. What would my public think? A pamplet saying 'get ball into goal, while blocking ball into own net'. Real hard. And knowing me, I would have to change the grammar a bit, but that's what it would say. 15 minutes even.
I should get there early, and I still am in my school uniform. Wouldn't it be a good idea to wear my soccer uniform to a soccer practice?
Yeah, that would be good. I pull my shirt over my head and unbutton my pants and throw them over a chair. I slip on the psuedo-plastic shiny black pants and put my green jersey on. I really should wear this more often, I look a lot better than in that school uniform.
I honestly don't know why I wear that silly gray thing all the time. Sure, it's comfortable and all, but so are sweatpants.
I shudder at the thought. I have always thought that sweatpants make me look fat and they bulge at all the wrong places. Ew.
Note to self: Buy attractive pajamas. And maybe this afternoon even. I hope Daisuke asks me to spend the night. Like almost every other Friday since the beginning of time.
I just hope this won't be like last Friday. Now that was disatrous. Miyako, Hikari, Iori and Takeru were invited also. One game of truth or dare and my life going spinning out of control. . . .
Stupid Miyako, still holding a flame for me. Of course, we played the game, right after the Ouija board. Those things are so fake.
So anyway, it was my turn to ask. And everyone was answering truth, and everyone was asking, "Who do you like?" Works like that everytime. So I decided to ask Miyako, because she was the only one not to answer. I had answered that I liked the quiet girl in my math class, and no one know what I was talking about. So I got off scott free. I chuckle to myself. So as I was saying, I asked Miyako who she liked. And she answered. . . me. Yes, lil' over me, right here. And I was blushing, and she was blushing, even Iori was blushing. I was pretty much quiet the rest of the time.
That sent me into one of my thinking periods. Then I started to re-ask the question I had been periodically asking myself for the past year. I asked myself, point blank, who I liked. And it took me a week to get this far. And now I am going to see him. And I can't help but giggle. So out of personality for me.
3 minutes. I suppose I should get going. So I grab my soccerball in it's mesh net and heave it over my shoulder. I set out for the park.
==========
It was getting a bit long, so I decided to chapter this one. Hey! Don't blame me, blame my extraordinarily long period of inspiration.
5-28: I just reuploaded this because I noticed an odd little mistake, and there were these spelling errors driving me crazy. I noticed that instead of saying, 'David Copperfield', I said 'Davis Copperfield'. I would have made that some sort of slip on Ken's part, but then I realized I was using the Japanese names and there was no way that Ken would think Davis was in anyway related to Daisuke. Crackhead dubbers.